^ ^ t^ n^ ^ ^ 



JClie loit^r^ra *^ 



^ 


Their First Chapbook. 




^ 


e^ 




POEMS. 






^ 


^ 




^L 






^ 


e^St 




i^^ 


) 




^ 


oe 




*^S 


i 




^ 


e^ 




Pf 






^ 


n^ 




<3 II 






^ 


^ 




Pr/cc fifty cents 






^ 


^ ^ 


dJF 


1st Edition 


^ 


e^ 


%c^ 



THE LOITERERS 

and 
OTHER POEMS 



By 
LOUIS LEAKEY 




Published by The Loiterers 
Carnegie Hall, New York. 

Copies may be had from 
Brentano's or Putnams. 

1920 






Copyright 

LOUIS LEAKEY 

1920. 



rbB 18 1920 



J 

.A56i886 



-M'C 



^ 






THE LOITERERS 



THE LOITERERS 

When tired of the everlasting rush. 
1 dreamed of some quiet day 
When I could linger long 
And slowly say my say, 
With pause, and no constraint 
To finish ere begun ; 
Or, could I merely dream 
'Mong dreamers, kin of dreams! 
That we might do or think 
Without a thought of "seems," — 
Without a care, but such as snare 
A mortal, hurry sated. 



O then awoke a thought, 

That thought that wakes in most 

(Man's mind's gregarious ever:) 

We'll pool our dreams, not sell them; 

We'll dream our dreams, and tell them, — 

True Loiterers we'll be. 

We'll gather round a fire, 

Or smoke till muses come ; 

We'll sit and wait, and never prate 

Of logic ; no, be rather dumb 

And deaf and blind, than be dread tiresome. 




6 



O hie thee, weary panter, 

To where we listless lie; 

Our wits can still well canter, 

There's fire in our eye. 

But we look not for the dollar. 

We long not for the spoil; 

We've slipped from leash and collar, 

We're Loiterers tonight; 

You're welcome if you're restful. 

We've struggled through the fight. 

No weighty theory, stodgy plan. 

Shall mar our whimsy ways ; 

We'll silent stay, or talkative, — 

We'll call no yeas or nays. 




No dusty roads shall Loiterers tread. 

They'll choose their path where fancy leads. 

They've toiled erstwhile for daily bread: 

They now can mount those airy steeds 

That springing joyous over woes 

(Those woes we weave from treasured wrongs) 

Find rest in zephyrs, fairy courts. 

Rings made by fairy folk of yore. 

All ready, waiting; placid planes 

Where mortals, welcomed, ever again 

Long to revel, free from strain. 

Those stabled steeds of Pegasus, 

Those thought-shod hoofs of rhyme, 

They sometimes range the heavens, 

But often bide their time 

In just those peaceful, lustless lanes 

True Loiterers ever find. 



8 



Shall Pegasus in zephyrs rest? 
Aloud exclaim the logic minds. 
Ah, yes ! You, cripples, crawl at best. 
Your syntax rules, your grammar binds. 
Poor Pegasus is also proud ; 
His hoofs shall rest, his maney crest 
Shall deep in four-leaved rhymlets rove ; 
And he shall nod, where no man trod 
Save Loiterer true, who, deep in love 
With Nature, Art, shall worship God 
In places sweet, unstained by gold — 
In places new, though wondrous old. 




9 



INCENSE 




12 



INCENSE 

Roaming round a den of truest art, 
Browsing on books, on pictures gazing keen, 
I sought what 1 was apt to reckless find, — 
A sepulchre for my departed Lady Nicotine. 
A carved metal's tesselated arch 
Rose in tiny splendor on the heavy-draped shelf 
I lifted light the knob that held the patined lid. 
And dropped within, my Pall Mall's conse- 
crated ash. 
And there it lustering hid. 



13 



But lo! it fell upon an incense powder long 
disused ; 

And mounting slow the studio's sloping glass- 
crowned roof 

A spiral wreath of sclented vapor rose. 

The guests were there, — ^those guests one finds 

In Tracy's home of art, 

Of every world a precious chipped-off part, 

Chosen at ease in far off land, or near. 

Just that sweet place 

That gentle souls enchant. 

And rough ones urge 

To efforts more worth while. — 

And I, enamoured of the incense rising, 

Spiral climbing. 

In a thrilled, ecstatically thrilled ozone. 



14 



Informed by art, by music's strain uplifted, 
Rising more high my tired soul to rock 
In upper calms away from Subway shock, 
I dreamed, entranced. 
Not hashish-festered dream. 
But sweet remembrance, sweeter, deeper, far. 
Than rising incense in that tiny jar 
(Pierced by the skill of Asia's artist hands). 
Laden with thoughts that Omar's would out- 
shine 
Were ever thoughts in commerce balance 

weighed, — 
Which God forbid, O Lady Nicotine! 



15 



music mine, 
Trilled to my ear 

And nestling in my heart, 

Hearest thou, Man? 

And Woman, hearest thou? 

'Tis Heaven speaks. 

Now hear the Voice of God. 

Lo, here on earth, 

1 knew that incense 

Had been burned in bygone times 

In that same strange and twisted work of art, 

And that perhaps uprose 

A bygone past. 

Blending with ours. 



I 



16 



What sound is that? 

What hacking, mortal cough? 

What scent is that? — 

That sarcophagian sound, 

Hollow and drear, that calls me back to Earth 

Hold, O ye angels. 

Hold me again ! 

Reach me your hands, 

Uplift now high your wings ! 

Rise high with me, 

My heart, my spirit sings. 

Glad be my soul ! 

Hark ! heavenly chorus rings. 

Heaven 1 perceive, 

O lift me, heavenly wings ! 

Dec. 16. 1919 




17 



,!rI^f^f^Ry OF 



|.£??'G'?ESS 



® 015 aS'''?* 



939 78rr^ 



